To Head Scholar Yuya,

Attached you will find our preliminary findings from our recent field research into the mysterious cult known as the Devotees of the Unnamed God. Below is a summary of our current understandings, though it is important to note that our findings are still in an early stage and many questions remain unanswered.

Appropriately named, the Devotees of the Unnamed God appear to be a dispersed and enigmatic religious group united by the worship of an entity they call the "Eighth God." The beliefs of this group, however, seem to resist clear categorization, as they do not adhere to the common frameworks of other cults that have surfaced throughout known history. While Devotees are found scattered across various Cities, remote villages, and even within the far-reaching corners of the Empire, the manner in which this religion is spreading remains baffling. There is no central figure—no prophet, leader, or organized institution—acting as the driving force behind the movement. This absence of a clear authority makes it exceedingly difficult to trace the origins of their beliefs or to uncover how the cult began. Every time we believe we have identified the earliest known mention of the "Unnamed God" or found a text that could serve as the foundation of their teachings, we are met with the discovery of an even older reference, further complicating our efforts to establish a coherent history.

At present, we estimate that the religion is at least three centuries old, but this estimate is based on fragmentary and elusive evidence, and we cannot rule out the possibility that it stretches back even further. Given the nature of this belief system, it is clear that we are dealing with a highly decentralized and possibly evolving religion, one that may have originated in multiple places and gradually coalesced into the form we are currently studying.

One of the most intriguing conversations we had occurred during a discussion about the nature of belief itself (see Appendix 3-6). When we inquired about why the Devotees believe in the existence of an eighth God, they responded by asking why we stopped at seven. Our representative explained that the seven Gods are well documented, with extensive records of human interactions with them, including their names, their associated statues, and even living individuals who have credible claim to have met a God. The Devotee, however, countered by asking, "Have any of you truly met a God?" To which our representative replied that, as far as we knew, the Gods had ascended to Heaven some four centuries ago, leaving no direct interaction with mortals since then.

The Devotee's response was: "Our God is just as real. They simply left at different times."

We request you to search through the ancient archives kept by Head Scholar Panmoru to look into the possibility, and perhaps consult Head Scholar Panmoru's wisdom on the matter.

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Brighter Shores Inn

As soon as Molam awoke the next day, Mursa Shang sent a request for his presence.

"We're changing the lineup," he said as they walked out to the inn’s yard. It appeared that a mursasho had stayed up late to switch their wagons for something more suited to the sands they would soon be traversing. Large wooden sleds had taken their place, led by teams of two camels each. One of the large animals inspected Molam's untidied hair and blew out a puff of air, apparently deciding it only resembled the shape of food. "I want your group to be with me near the front when we enter the Endless Sands. We'll need to protect you specifically to make good on your agreement to help us with Mur."

"How very heartwarming." Molam ducked under another camel's inquisitive nose. "I'd almost be convinced you cared for my life, not just what I can do for you."

"We are entering the Endless Sands, Molam," the Mursa replied, his tone unusually harsh. "Everything will be judged for whether it's a waste of water. I'm keeping Meera assigned to you as a rider and you'll be right behind my sled. I believe you are already familiar with each other, so ask her if you need help with the sled's controls."

Molam opened his mouth, then thought better of what he was going to say, and changed the subject. "I have a request," he said, watching the Mursa inspect the runners of a sled.

"What is it?"

"Is it possible to stop by the Black Pyramid before Oasis?" She was here, he thought. Claiming DuskWing's Lair. Or perhaps she already claimed it.

The Mursa's eyes narrowed. "That would be a sizable detour. A day… maybe two days’ worth of travel, and water too." He pondered Molam, stroking his goatee. "Do you have a specific reason?"

"I didn't get to see it last time," Molam replied. "And I would like to spend our journey to Oasis asking you questions about Mursa Synbad."

"Oho. You want to know about the person who chose Mursa Allyce as his successor," Mursa Shang considered the request. "I do suppose it's in my best interests to give you some extra time to delve into this more. Done." He paused, then added, "this had better end with you answering Mursa Allyce's question. Two days' worth of water for an entire caravan. You understand, don't you?"

Molam estimated the cost in his head. Mursa Shang had converted a considerable amount of cargo space to carry enough water for them to survive the trip to Mur and then to Oasis. Most people needed three waterskin's worth of water a day in the Endless Sands. Given the caravan's two hundred or so members and the amount of fresh water they each needed to drink, the comparative cost would be…

"I understand it's an extravagant expense," Molam replied with a nod. Mursa Khan had been similarly uptight about logistics. "So I appreciate how ready you are when agreeing."

"It would be best if you treated the caravan's water supply as part of the resources you'll be able to use, should you answer Mursa Allyce's question," Mursa Shang reminded him.

"Reminding me that I could be acting Mursa of three caravans?" Molam tilted his head slyly. "I appreciate the vote of confidence."

"Hmph." Mursa Shang's face indicated he wanted to say something pithy, but he seemed to change his mind. He straightened himself, apparently satisfied with his inspection, and pointed towards Brighter Shores where mursashu were heading in for food. "We'll be the last to arrive; the residents of Klagynah told me both Mursa Khan and Mursa Allyce have already passed through. How confident are you in being able to answer her question?"

"Not very," Molam admitted as he kept up his strides with Mursa Shang. "It’s like looking for a specific tree in a forest that’s been engulfed in fog. That's why I would like you to tell me about Mursa Synbad. The more information I have to work with, the better."

"Ride with me later, then. There's much to say about him," Mursa Shang scratched at his chin as they walked. Molam noticed he hadn't shaved cleanly since leaving ZhiXia City. Well, few of the men had, and he himself only shaved when the stubble became too itchy to bear. "Perhaps I'll start with the story of how Mursa Synbad had an idea to venture out into the Deep Waters, far beyond the Formosan Isles. He was looking for a new place the mursashu could call home."

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

They ducked into the main hall, where food was being served. Molam asked, "I'm curious to learn more about Mursa Synbad's journey. Did he succeed?"

"Yes and no," answered the Mursa. His face darkened before adding, "Mursa Synbad found several new lands. But they couldn't be called home."

Molam could guess why. "Monsters?"

"Monsters," the Mursa agreed. "The demons may be gone, but their pets are not."

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Brighter Shores Inn, Main Hall

Primrose looked up as Kalle sat down at their breakfast table, rummaging around within his pack. The man looked younger without his beard, having asked her to give him a clean shave the night before. After some searching—Primrose heard the clinking of loose metals and what sounded like glass—Kalle pulled out a spoon, fork, and knife. He then purposefully shoved the provided chopsticks to the side.

She raised an eyebrow at the metal eating utensils. "You'll need to wash those later, you know. The chopsticks are intended to be discarded after use to help with water conservation."

"I can lick them clean," the alchemist declared. "But you can stick those chopsticks into a camel's — ah, just don't make me use them. Sorry for making you stay up so late trying to teach me how."

"You won't get better if you don't practice." Primrose dug into her meal. Egg on rice, paired with simple vegetables. The soy sauce was saltier than she expected, so she preferred to just wet her chopsticks in it before picking up food.

"Do I want to get better? Chopsticks are a terrible invention for eating rice," he complained. "Two sticks for individual granules — really? Inefficient and poorly thought out by any means. Spoons were invented for a reason!" He spooned out a bit of rice to show Primrose, then ate it with exaggerated movements. "Ask any alchemist — you want a container-like tool for this. Simple, efficient, usable!"

"Don't speak with your mouth full; it muddles your words." Meera set her tray down beside them and pulled up a chair next to Kalle. Primrose appreciated that the mursashu chose to sit on Kalle's side, away from the window, to block the other diners from seeing him. The Northerner was the only one oblivious to the stares he was getting from the Oasians.

"I thought you were looking for Molam," said Primrose.

"He is speaking with the Mursa now," Meera answered, peeling a splinter from her chopsticks before digging into her food. Three steamed buns and a baked yam, topped with what looked like spiced oil. "I've been assigned to ride with your group for the remainder of this trip, and the Mursa will be moving your sled to be near his at the front."

"I see. We'll be in your care, then." Primrose smiled at Meera. The mursashu didn't react to Primrose's smile, seemingly focused on her food. "Will you be helping us with the sled?"

Meera shook her head, then swallowed. She drank from her cup before answering. "I'll be riding alongside you on a camel, but the sled will be under your control. You only need to learn how to use the rudder and a stopper. Other than that, it's similar to a wagon."

Kalle leaned in. "Rudder?" he asked through a mouthful of greens. "Isn't that for a ship?"

Meera stared at Kalle before answering. "They'll consider you very rude if you speak with a full mouth in Oasis," Meera wrinkled her nose. "This is on top of the… obvious problems they'll have with you."

The Northerner grinned sheepishly, then chewed furiously before swallowing.

"And to answer your question, yes. It's called a rudder because the concept is the same: just instead of water, you're guiding the sled through sand."

Primrose raised an eyebrow. "What's a rudder?"

Meera placed a hand flat on the table. "This is the sled or boat, see?" Then with her other hand, she stuck two fingers perpendicularly in between her middle and index finger. "The rudder is like… a thick wooden paddle for steering, like this. Imagine a stream of water or sand flowing past and pushing against that paddle, which you've attached to the back of your sled." Meera glanced up, making sure Primrose understood. "This ensures the sled doesn't slide uncontrollably when going downhill."

"What if I want to stop?" asked Primrose. "And what about uphill?"

"Ideally, we never get to that situation. But that's where the sled driver jams the stopper – a paddle – into the sand to slow down the sled." Meera twisted her fingers sideways, then sighed. "Well, it'll make more sense when you try it. This can be done in the sand but is quite useless in the water." She shrugged, going back to her food. "As for uphill, the camels are quite strong for tugging a sled. It's the Mursa's decision how we traverse the Endless Sands, but each sled can have wheels attached to it if for some reason the Mursa decides we're going up a steep dune."

"Thank you for the explanation, Meera," Primrose said politely. She nudged Kalle under the table with her foot; the man was balancing his spoon on his chopsticks over the table's edge and clearly not paying attention. "Is there anything else Kalle and I should know about traveling in the Endless Sands?"

Meera finished her yam before answering. "Well… you've heard of the Sandwurms, right?"

Primrose nodded. Everyone had; the Northern Plains had many famous monsters from the Eternal Night such as the jade scorpion, but the monster synonymous with the Endless Sands would be the Sandwurm. Other living things were secondary. Even Lyka had spoken about them, always with a shudder.

"If we encounter one, is the safest way to kill it by thrusting a spear through their mouth?" Primrose asked directly.

"Gods no. Safest way is to not get entangled with one at all." Meera drank, then added, "Well, I guess that doesn't help, since if they're in the vicinity it's almost unavoidable. They're attracted to liquid; so make sure nothing more than your sweat rolls onto the sand, if you even have that much to sweat."

Kalle's spoon fell down from the table with a loud clang. He bent down to pick it up, then looked at Meera with alarm. "What about relieving ourselves?"

"Not onto the Sands. Each sled will have a stoppered pot. A mursasho will collect it each night."

Primrose wrinkled her nose at the idea of carrying their own waste that way, but accepted it would need to happen. She saw no other way.

"I'm still concerned with how we could defend ourselves from Sandwurms should the worst happen," she prompted again.

Meera poked at her last steamed bun. "The three primary weapons of Oasis are chosen specifically for them. The shield, to block their bite and keep the jaw open for someone else to attack the weak point inside. The spear, to attack the brain inside their mouth without putting yourself in reach of their venomous teeth. And some warriors still use the greatsword, which has enough weight to cut through their thick chitin plating if you have the strength to wield one." She began tearing into the bun, then added, "try and get them to face the Sun, if at all possible."

"What if all I have are shorter blades?" Primrose asked. She felt their weight on her limbs, wondering what was possible.

"Throw them?" Meera smiled grimly at her. "If you're willing to get in range of the venom, you're a braver woman than I'll ever be."

Primrose hesitated. No, she was not. "If we get poisoned, how long do we have to… make a decision?"

"Ten breaths. Maybe less." Meera paused, chewing on nothing. Then she added, "don’t hesitate the moment you feel the chill locking up your limbs. I wouldn't. At least," she corrected herself, "I'd like to think I wouldn't hesitate. You want to die as a human, yes?"

Though Kalle hadn't changed the way he sat, Primrose could see the rigidness in his posture. His normally grinning face had stiffened and Primrose wondered if her own look of politeness had faltered.

No. Her training hadn't failed her. No doubt she and Kalle were wondering the same thing. Could I do it? Primrose liked to think she could. She wanted to believe she could. Kalle could, she told herself. Molam could. Scarlette could.

"I would like to form a rider's agreement with the two of you," Meera’s voice was oddly stiff, more formal than it had been a moment before. Seeing their confused expressions, she added, "it's when those who… ride together, all have permission… no, the expectation that we'll do it for each other if possible, assuming the paralysis has set in and the person needs to be abandoned." She held out a hand to Primrose, a sharp look in her eyes. "If you don't want to, I respect that too. But I would like to request it for myself."

Primrose shook Meera's hand, finding it warm and callused. "Me as well." Kalle's hand came into view, replacing hers in Meera’s grip.

"I'm relieved there's such a pact," said Primrose as the three of them went back to their meals, or what was left of them. She then had a morbid realization. This system existed because those who traveled the Endless Sands found it necessary. That meant each person who had traveled the Endless Sands must have struggled with this very same thought and needed a fallback plan.

The issue lingered in Primrose's head.

Could I kill myself if it came down to it?